And the mystery category is... LOGARITHMS!!

[ZACK CHARMING]

Zack irritably crossed some wires, shoving plugs into outlets arbitrarily, testing the buzzers one by one until each produced the resounding buzz that was required. So this is what I get for not showing up for gym class. Sure, he did enjoy opportunities to exercise his mental capabilities, but somehow, coaching a team full of nerds and wannabe overachievers didn't seem like the best way to work his intelligence to its full potential.

This was all that Mr. Guy's doing, he just knew it. Either Zack was severely autistic, or that tomato-faced jackass of a gym teacher had a life's goal of making Zack's life as miserable as humanly possible. What a blundering idiot. Well, two could play at that game. Mr. Guy was in for a lovely surprise the next time he turned his computer on.

So today would be tryout day, for an A team and a B team. Inside the desk he was lounging behind, Zack found a book that looked as if it weighed 700 pounds, presumably filled with questions designed to test the students' knowledge. Published in 1973. Zack rolled his eyes. Well these are going to be mad up to date, he thought resentfully. He'd have to comb through them and find the ones that were still accurate. How perfectly thrilling.

As the students milled aimlessly around the classroom, Zack glanced over the roster. He recognized most of the names, but none stood out. One in particular, however, set off a flare gun in his mind. Drake Sterling. The druggie from gym class. Great. Zack would definitely not be using any of the questions from the book for him. No, Zack would be creating Drake's question himself.

"Okay, everyone sit down or I'll snap your necks." Okay, so maybe it was a little harsh. But Zack was in a bad mood. "So Guy has probably filled your heads with a bunch of crap about bonuses and lighting rounds and stuff. But I'm gonna try to get you guys sorted into A and B squads first. So I'm just gonna ask everyone a question: you get it right, you're an A. Otherwise, you're a B. Any questions? Alright. Um...you, you, you, and you, right side of the room. You, you, you, you, and you, left side of the room. Everyone else, pick a side. Oh, and, you and you, keep score." He pointed to a blue-eyed, diva-looking blondie and a long, lanky gingerish kid.

His eyes scanned the crowd, combing through the ranks. Let's see...who here do I not like? Ah yes. Mr. Cokehead. A sketchy smile spread across his face. "Mr, ahem, Sterling," he announced. Zack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. "Name a colorless, flammable liquid miscible with water, an organic compound with chemical formula OC(CH3)2."

[hook]

Drake did NOT know why the fuck he was doing this. It was just some pointless thing meant for those smart freaks that liked to sit inside and read every single day or sit at there computers. Drake wasn't meant to be here! He should be off practicing to BEAT THE LITTLE HENDERSON RUNT TO A PULP WITH IHS FOIL, or at the shooting range. But no, he just HAD to have cut class too many times as a junior and now he was missing some necessary credits. Normally he wouldn't care about this and would just blow it off as just more crap the school had made rules about, but THIS time he NEEDED those friggin credits or they were going to hold him back for another year. And there was not a chance in HELL he was staying in this friggin school with Pan Henderson for another year.

He stepped into the classroom, immediately seeing who he assumed was the "captain" or whatever the hell it was called. Of course. Who ELSE could it be but the boy genius who had gotten bumped up a grade or three? The one that seemed to at least share a mutual hatred with drake, instead of that henderson freak that weirdly seemed to LIKE Drake. At least with Charming Drake could rest assured that the he would be doing everything in his power to stay away from him, where Henderson was always trying to cozy up to Drake.

Drake sat down in a chair at random, zoning out. This was one of the rare occasions where he wasn't high but just reaaaally wanted to be. As such, he was subjected to hearing every word that Zack said.

"So Guy has probably filled your heads with a bunch of crap about bonuses and lighting rounds and stuff. But I'm gonna try to get you guys sorted into A and B squads first. So I'm just gonna ask everyone a question: you get it right, you're an A. Otherwise, you're a B. Any questions? Alright. Um...you, you, you, and you, right side of the room. You, you, you, you, and you, left side of the room. Everyone else, pick a side. Oh, and, you and you, keep score."

He watched boredly as the other students scrambled to go where he ordered, eager to please the great and wonderful 'captain.' God, couldn't they just get this over with?

"Name a colorless, flammable liquid miscible with water, an organic compound with chemical formula OC(CH3)2.

Drake barely understood the question. he was sure none of the other kids knew it either. There was no fucking way TO know it. If this was what it was like, Drake had just signed up for a semester of hell.

" Uhh... Gas?"

[NOVEMBER STARR]

November frowned around the room. She didn't really feel like being here. Sure, it had sounded like fun at the time, and a little extra college credit was always a good thing, but her day had been a long one. She had a headache, her feet hurt, and she wasn't sure she could talk because of all of the damn shitheads who COULDN'T KEEP THEIR FUCKING MOUTHS SHUT FOR THE TEN FUCKING SECONDS IT TOOK TO OPEN A FUCKING TEXTBOOK! So she'd yelled. And been yelled at. She hadn't even been near fighting since she'd been here, but she had visited her father the day before to have him sign some permission slip. Trips home were not something to look forward to, unlike most of the people here. His place, clothes, and overall mind had never seemed to be such a mess.

Needless to say, Nov didn't think she was to blame for the bad mood starting to spill over. She was sure that the negativity had to have touched SOMEONE within twenty feet of her. And with a room full of MORE idiots, plus the most annoying sound ever created that was apparently REQUIRED for each question to be answered, the probability of her mood lifting was slim to none. Then again, she sometimes quizzed herself simply to calm down. So maybe this could be enjoyable after all...

"Name a colorless, flammable liquid miscible with water, an organic compound with chemical formula OC(CH3)2."

" Uhh... Gas?"

Well, never mind. A chorus of giggles ran through the room. The answer was so obvious, too! "It's Acetone..." she whispered, more to herself than anyone else, using her pencil's eraser to scratch impatiently at the edge of her desk. Her knee was also bouncing up and down, and she mumbled lyrics to some random song that had been stuck in her head all day as she waited for the next question to be spouted out of Charming. What a hypocritical name. And why the hell was Drake here anyways!? Missing a few crucial credits, no doubt. There was no way he'd willingly sign up for this, and though she felt rude for thinking this, she somehow knew it was right. It seemed her mood had actually sharpened her senses, and she doubted she'd end up on the B Team at this rate.

[kate3]

Gwen blinked, staring straight ahead but not really seeing. She wasn't thinking about anything as her hand rested on the buzzer, the other folded unobtrusively on the table. A couple of times she jumped at the sound of the buzzer going, or Zack's questioning or Drake's answering. But mostly, Gwen was just sort of... zoning out.

Did she know the answer to the question he asked? Truth be told, she wasn't listening. So the answer would be no. But November obviously knew it, for at the moment Gwen decided it was best to start paying attention, the other girl muttered the answer under her breath. Gwen looked over at her for a second. "Acetone?" she mouthed silently. So what was the question he asked...? Ah well. She was sure it wasn't terribly important, and by the time Zack got around to asking Gwen her question, she bet she'd be ready.

Until then, Gwen slipped back into her blank stare coma. It was surprising, really. Here she was in a room full of people she hardly ever associated with, and she wasn't stuttering or tweaking out or anything. In fact she wasn't even talking, though that was probably for the best. Despite her pseudo-calm at the moment, Gwen still didn't trust her mouth to say anything coherent. The only person that could understand her in her freaked state was Castel, and even then he was probably just making educated guesses. Nope, better to just stare straight ahead and wait to be called on, she decided, and did so.

Other people laughed at Drake's answer and November's bitter mumblings, but Gwen took no notice. Academic bowl was for learning and competing, and she didn't want to break her concentration by getting distracted by the mocking laughter of her teammates. Were they even her teammates? Gwen didn't know. There was something about Team A and Team B, she knew, so it really just depended on what team she got placed on. Until that time, she held her tongue and... basically tried to make herself invisible.

[kate]

"Oh, and, you and you, keep score."

"Woo-hoo!" Cory yipped, slapping Lucy a high five. "Scooore keepers. The keepers of scores. All depends on us, Luc, whether they win, or whether they lose." Cory waggled his eyebrows at her, jogged to the white board in the front of the room and uncapped a green marker like he was unsheathing a sword. "I feel so important!" He grinned, teasing. Hey, at least he wouldn't have to be answering questions.

Cory reached over and tossed a marker to Lucy, then quickly drew up a score board. A simple t-chart with the names "DECEPTICONS" on the right and "AUTOBOTS" on the left. A stern look from the academic bowl coordinator and a shake of the head later, and Cory had added "Team A" and "Team B" in tiny letters under the headings. Pft. Fun sucker.

"I'll keep score for the Autobots," he said quietly to Lucy, tapping "Team A" with his knuckle while Zack posed a question to Drake. Cory looked up and smiled toothily at his roommate, and gave him a thumbs up that could either be read as "Go for it!" or "Mess up so I can tease you about it later and then probably shoot more beads at your head with my sling shot!" Mixed messages were fun.

Drake did get it wrong, which Cory promptly filed away for later. He was about to put a -5 up for the Autobots/Team A when he thought... Hey wait. "Hey wait." Cory repeated his thoughts, turning around. "Zack, who's on what team?"

[ZACK CHARMING]

“Zack, who's on what team?"

Zack rolled his eyes. Idiot. He swung his tennis sneaker against the leg of his chair irritably, drumming his fingers across the tabletop to the beat of some song he wasn’t even sure he remembered. This blew. One teeny weeny question and already the babies were stirring in their cradles. Thrilling.

“Who’s on what team?” He glanced at the board to examine the way the kid had set it up, then dug his nails hard into his palms in frustration. “Autobots…and…decepticons,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Really.” He shook his head. “Okay Shia Labeouf, now here’s the shit that’s gonna go down.” He added an edge of malice and hostility to his cadence. “You are going to replace those horrendous pop culture references with ‘A Team’ and ‘B Team.’”

He clapped his hands together as if he were about to start a long, boring lecture. “Okay kiddos, change of plans. You’re now keeping track of the rosters for each team. Can you remember that? [Rosters.” He pronounced the world slowly and carefully, as if he were teaching it to a foreign speaker or a young child. “Stick Dopey over there in the B Column. And also that October girl who thinks she can pull of smarty little antics behind the mentally challenged captain’s back.” He pointed Miss Einstein who had oh-so-cleverly whispered the answer to Drake. Honestly. “Oh, and Megatron can put himself in there too. Because Megan Fox really isn’t that hot.” He shook his head again, and returned to his seat. “I mean, she was fully clothed for almost the entire movie. Disney’s gotta hit puberty at some point.”

“Okay. Next question’s for smarty jeans over here.” He pointed apathetically to November, flipping through the next few pages searching for a legitimate question. Since she had already been sentenced to the B Team, the answer to this one honestly wouldn’t matter. So he chose one at random.

“Um, okay. x+79=80. Find x.”

Well if she couldn’t solve that one, Zack was a girl. And he knew for a fact that he happened to poses the Y-Chromosome. So it was a moot point.